


For the Fortunate Finder

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Below The Shore [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Merlin finally meets his savior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Fortunate Finder

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow, I finally finished this.
> 
> No joke, this story has been sitting in a notebook for the better half of a few months. I finally managed to finish it a little while ago but hadn't got around to typing it until now. Sorry about the wait!
> 
> Hope the fic is worth the wait, though! Please enjoy!

It's been two weeks.

It's been two weeks since Merlin was miraculously saved, not only from the dastardly pirates that kidnapped him and sank his ship, but from a raging storm that would've no doubt drowned him when he was tossed into the ocean. It's been two weeks since he lost Will—two weeks since that strange creature allowed him to breathe, forcing air into his lungs and smiled at him, lulling him to sleep. It's been two endless weeks of thinking and realizing that he still doesn't know what happened that day. 

The last thing he remembers about that day was seeing that beautiful creature's eyes, so blue and foreign, and hearing his calming, reassuring voice before he'd known no more. When he'd awakened, he'd been lying on the shore, the moon high in the sky with the shore lapping at his heels. From there, he'd made his way to the harbor and then to the town, only to find, to his favorable luck, it was his hometown.

Which, in reality, meant two things—either he hadn't been as far from home as he'd originally thought, or that the creature that had saved him knew more about him than he'd prefer to admit. 

He sincerely hopes it's the former. 

When Merlin had found his little house out on the edge of town, his mother had greeted him with tears in her eyes. She had whispered words of relief to him over and over, uncaring that it had been so late at night, so happy that he had come home safely that she hadn't even bothered to ask why he had returned weeks before he was meant to. 

He now spends his days running errands for Old Man Gaius, the physician of the town who treats Merlin like the grandson he never had. Though, every now and again, like he is now, he paces the shoreline up and down, gazing out to sea, trying to find some sign, some indication about who saved him that day—and more importantly, _why_. 

Merlin absentmindedly places a hand over his heart, remembering the heavy weight that had bore down on him. He can still feel his chest constricting, how he'd struggled for air below the thrashing seas. He had been so sure he would die, that he would be reunited with Will and his father—it's almost surreal to him now that he can feel the salty breeze through his hair again. Everything about that moment had been so bizarre, so crazy, and he aches more than anything to discover what really happened. 

He knows he's nothing special—Merlin's always been a little odd, of course, but he's certainly not special. To say he's curious about why any of the Sea Gods would listen to him, let alone save him, is an understatement. In all honesty, he's been driving himself mad trying to work out reasons for why. 

As Merlin digs his bare heels into the soft sand, he feels a twinge of _something_ in his chest, only faint, the cool sea water brushing around his heels as the tide rolls in. The sun disappears behind a stray cloud, and he sighs. 

What a waste of time, he thinks. He doesn't even know what he's waiting _for_. 

Merlin plops down into the sand, a few inches from where the tide's reach extends. He curls his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He has no idea what he's going to do. He knows he should try to forget about all of this, and just be grateful for the fortune paid to him, but he can't help but be so bitterly curious. He's considered for a while finding work on a ship again, for surely someone will take him on, but every time he thinks about it, even for a second, a flash of Will sweeps through his mind, and he feels sick. 

Will and he had signed onto that ship together, eager to leave Ealdor and set sail, finding themselves in foreign lands. It had always been their dream, to settle somewhere new, to explore, and discover. But it's just him now, all alone. Will had always been the more outgoing one between the two of them, and without his encouragement, Merlin doesn't quite have the motivation to explore much of anything. 

Maybe he should just stick to working for Old Man Gaius, staying in Ealdor for the rest of his young life. That's what most people do, isn't it? 

A sharper tug yanks at his heart, pulling him from his thoughts. He grips the fabric of his tunic instinctively, clutching the fabric tight. Merlin forces himself to breathe easy, and slowly loosens his hold. He raises his head and looks around, the familiar pain stirring a memory inside of him. He surveys the open water, and hopes, maybe— _maybe_ —

“Hello?” he calls out, tentative. When no response is given, he says, a little louder, “Is someone out there? Hello?” 

The water ripples in response, this time. Merlin feels his confidence fading away, the wind blowing a little stronger than before. 

Is he really going mad? 

Merlin sighs in defeat. This is utterly hopeless, he realizes now. How could he be so stupid, to think he would be lucky enough to stumble upon that creature again? Fortune doesn't smile upon him _that_ kindly. He's a fool, no two ways about it. Merlin hauls himself to his feet, and turns, heading back to the village. 

About two steps in, he realizes that he's forgotten his boots. Merlin grumbles quietly to himself before returning to the place he hid them underneath one of the docks. 

What he finds there makes him stop. 

Someone is sitting there, curiously poking at his boots. He's facing away from Merlin, back to him. He looks a bit like someone who just washed ashore, bootless himself, a loose red tunic hanging from his frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His trousers are dark, as well, rolled to his knees, but for all that he's close to the water, he looks surprisingly dry. His hair is a mess of wind-tasseled, blond hair that Merlin's never seen before. 

A vague memory resurfaces in his mind, and he steps forward cautiously, thinking, hoping, wishing...

“Hello?” he says gently, taking another step. 

The man in question jumps, and without even turning to look at him, he dives into the water. Merlin calls out an indignant, “Hey!”, but it's left unheard.

Merlin swears loudly, ducking under the dock to see if he can find any sign of the mystery man. However, he finds nothing, not even a print of any sort where he'd just been sitting, moments ago. 

Sighing, Merlin grabs his boots, and begins to crawl back out from under the dock. 

He's barely out from underneath of the structure when another tug in his chest pulls at him agin. It doesn't hurt this time, rather, it's simply there, as if alerting him to something. It's warm, in a way, and not at all uncomfortable. 

Merlin passes another look over his shoulder, glancing just slightly, only to be thoroughly surprised by the sight of someone staring back at him. 

Dare he hope again...?

He turns back to him fully, skeptical, and sits down, just at the edge where the dock stops covering his head from the side, half in the sun, half in shade. The man is perhaps a few inches from him, still partially in the water, as if letting Merlin know he could make another escape quite easily, should Merlin make him do so. 

Merlin smiles awkwardly, and raises a hand, very slowly. After a beat, he waves.

There's a slight pause, before the man tilts his head curiously, but waves back. Merlin beams. 

He sets his boots down and crosses his legs. Merlin says quietly, “Er, hi. Do you mind if I come a little closer?”

The man hesitates for a second, before shaking his head, and makes a gesture for him to move up. Merlin breathes out a small sigh of relief, and does so. He stops just before where the tide hits him, and meets the stranger's eyes. 

He bites back the urge to gasp, and instead whispers, “It is you,” he smiles. “You're the one who saved me.”

The man smiles, soft. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Sometimes stirs deep inside him when the man speaks—his voice rich and melodious to him, welcoming him and somehow, it feels familiar. 

Merlin lets it wash over him before saying, “Thank you. I didn't get to tell you that before. I'd be dead if it weren't for you.”

“It was nothing,” the man says quickly, his smile tight. “Really. Don't worry about it.”

He extends a hand out, but doesn't move much beyond that, or cross the bit of space between them. “I'm Arthur.” 

_Arthur_. Merlin grins, happy to be able to put a name to the face that's been plaguing him these last few weeks. Merlin inches closer, trying to avoid getting wet, and takes Arthur's hand.

“Merlin,” he replies. “I'm Merlin.”

If Merlin hadn't known any better, he would say that Arthur's eyes light up when he says his name.

“Merlin,” he repeats, and he can't help but like the sound of his name on Arthur's lips. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Merlin.”

_Finally?_

“Finally?” he asks aloud, feeling a tad bit uncomfortable at how Arthur's expression falters.

But he simply shrugs. “Just...finally glad I know the man I saved, that's all.”

Merlin had the distinct impression he's lying, but doesn't pursue it any further. He smiles in response, instead. He assumes he has reasons of his own, and Merlin doesn't wish to delve into that. “Right, right.”

He pauses. “Listen, I have to ask...not that I'm ungrateful or anything, because really, I am—grateful, I mean...” Merlin laughs a bit, before he sobers. “I'm just...curious, that's all. There were tons of...tons of people being drowned, and yet, me...” 

Arthur colors a bit, looking almost sheepish, but not quite. More embarrassed, really, Merlin thinks. Without answering straight away, he finally pulls himself out of the water and sits in front of him, his clothes dripping. When the tide rolls in, it soaks him a little more, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

He retains the silence for a minute, before Arthur shrugs.

“You called to me,” he says, finally. “After your friend...”

Merlin stiffens, the thought making his throat feel tight. 

There's a beat, as if Arthur's letting him process the information, and he's grateful for the moment to gather himself, before it hits him. What does he mean...?

“What do you mean, I called to you?” Merlin asks, shifting a bit. “I didn't call or pray for anyone, let alone Sea Gods and their children--”

He says the phrase offhandedly, but Arthur's interest immediately perks up. 

“You know what I am?” Arthur asks. “That's strange. Most humans don't really believe. They pay tribute and respect the waters, as they should, but it's more of a tradition. Most don't actually believe in our existence...”

Merlin takes a minute to realize that he is actually talking to a Sea God's child, no tricks about it. He finds that the fact doesn't startle him as much as it should, really. 

“My father instilled those beliefs into me,” Merlin smiles fondly at the memory. “He once told me that if I believed, that if I always held onto my faith, then I'd always be safe whenever I went to sea.” 

“Is he...?” Arthur begins, and Merlin nods.

“Dead,” he finishes, almost absently. “In a bad storm, a long time ago. I was really young. Few survivors from that ship, three, I think. Dad wasn't one of them.”

Arthur opens his mouth, and Merlin fixes him with a look. “Don't say you're sorry.”

“Wasn't going to,” he replies coolly, but his eyes say otherwise. 

Merlin lets it go. Rather, just the reality of this conversation makes him smile again. He is legitimately talking to a Sea God's child, one who saved him, out of everyone he could've. It's crazy, and possibly mad, but, _but--_

But he knows that his mother is probably waiting for him. Or that Gaius is. He knows he needs to go back. 

Merlin bites his lip. “I should--” he starts. 

But before he can finish, Arthur, as if not thinking, as if reacting on an impulse, surges forward, soaking Merlin with sea water as he does so, and brings their lips together. 

Merlin is a little more than shocked at first, but mostly because the water is surprisingly cold, colder than he'd expected it to be on a day like this. The kiss, in essence, feels natural, somehow, lacking the urgency of the first one they'd share all those weeks ago, replaced with fervor and desire. Arthur presses closer to him, chest to chest, and Merlin wraps his fingers into Arthur's hair, that too wet with salty water. 

This should be weird, Merlin thinks. This should be weird, that he's kissing a stranger under a dock, the stranger, the Sea Child, who saved him drowning, no less. But somehow, it isn't weird at all, it's even less weird as the kiss deepens, open-mouthed and hot, sloppy and very, very not weird. Arthur tastes of the sea and the sun, and something else that he can't name, but it's familiar to him, oh so familiar, as if he's tasted it before, as if he's kissed Arthur before, long before their first one below the shore. 

Arthur groans loudly against his lips, before pushing against him, pressing Merlin's back to the sand. It sticks to his skin and it clots in his hair, but he doesn't have even a second to care as Arthur leans over him, hands braced on either side of his head, digging his fingers into the sand as he kisses him again. 

Arousal pools in his stomach, a burning sensation and he shudders, wanting more. His heart is racing in his chest, but it feels _good_ , like he's doing something right, as if he's fit a puzzle piece into the proper place, as if this is where he's always been meant to end up. 

It feels _whole_. 

Finally, after what feels like both too long and too short, Arthur pulls away. He huffs out a sigh, or maybe it's a laugh, Merlin can't tell, but the air is warm on his face.

Their eyes meet. Merlin had forgotten the blue of his eyes until now. He smiles softly, body buzzing with this newfound warmth. 

“I should really be getting back,” he finishes, but Arthur makes no move to get off of him. “My mother needs me.”

A beat passes. Then two. Then, “You'll be back.”

It's phrased as a statement, but there's an underlying uncertainty to Arthur's voice. Slowly, he begins to sit up, and Arthur moves from over top of him as he does. 

“Yes,” he whispers, nodding his head. He doesn't miss the way Arthur's eyes seem to light up at that. “Yes, I will.”

Arthur smiles then, and Merlin can't help but feel like it's a private smile, like the smile is for Merlin alone. He tries to ignore the way his heart warms again at that. 

Merlin crawls out from under the dock, making sure to grab his boots as he does so. He rises to his feet once he's out from under the structure, and without looking back, he heads back towards the village. 

Somehow, he feels Arthur's eyes on him the entire way, and he makes a mental note that coming back will be a sooner thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
